Traditional style flash design of a red-haired woman in a cream dress beside a hooded figure, a FORGET ME NOT scroll, a unicorn, a rabbit and flowers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Forget me not woman with unicorn and rabbit

Traditional · Colour · Flash

A framed illustration shows a red-haired woman in a long cream dress standing at the centre of a composition. A hooded figure with a purple face sits behind her, and a scroll banner reading FORGET ME NOT runs across the lower half, with a unicorn, a rabbit, a bird and purple flowers around the edges. The bold dark outlines, flat fills and deep maroon background give it a traditional flash look, with colour dominating.

Traditional Woman Hooded figure Unicorn Rabbit Bird Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Keeper of Lanterns had been dead three winters before the court admitted she was gone, and so it fell to me, a clerk with ink under my nails, to carry the ledger of names up the tower stairs. Every hour the bell in Varrow rang one more person out of memory. The bailiffs did it kindly. They sent a scroll with the seal broken and a single flower pressed inside, and the town forgot whoever had died, and the forgetting was supposed to be a mercy.

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I was given the hooded figure's lamp to hold on the night the ledger came back to me with my own name written in it. Nobody had told me I would be the one to read it aloud. The purple light on the wall made the old carvings look like faded stains, and the unicorn above the door had lost one hoof to the frost. I thought of the rabbit that lived in the scullery, which the cook fed from her own bowl, and I wondered whether a creature like that could hold a name longer than a person could.

I did not read my name. I read the Keeper's name instead, which I had copied a hundred times and never once spoken aloud, and I tore the page from its binding and fed it to the hearth. The flames curled the ink into the shapes of birds. By morning the court had forgotten her entirely, and the purple flowers on the windowsill, pale as paper, were the only thing in the room that remembered.

I still climb the tower stairs each evening. The ledger is blank now, and I have not written a single name in it.